Midnight
by destinyXwish
Summary: There's a psychopath on the loose, what will you do?


I don't own anything.

She was as perfect as a porcelain doll. Her flawless glowing white skin; her cherry red lips, her dazzling hair as it sways to the wind's breeze, and her tantalizing yet innocent eyes. Oh, how perfect she was. At night he thinks of her and only her. How life must feel upon waking with her in his arms. She was his only cling to this cruel reality, she was his hope. He falls asleep thinking of her with a smile on his face. As his mind drifts off to the world of dreams and fantasies, he sees her – there she stood her beauty unmatched. She was waiting for him, he knew – somehow he knew. He approached her as quickly as he could hoping to the high heavens that she doesn't disappear this very instant. Each stride he took seemed like an eternity, his shoes made contact with the mahogany flooring and made inaudible sounds as he quickened his pace even more than before. He looked at her with eyes of hunger and lust as they were mere centimetres apart – she was his and only his! But as he reached forth to touch her physically – skin on skin, she seemed to have vanished without so much as a trace – no, he thought as he lunged for air. She was gone. Damn it. As he wakes up from his slumber, he thinks of her. How amazing must it have been if he had kissed her delicious lips – his tongue, her tongue wrestling for dominance and supremacy. He wonders what her saliva would've tasted like – apples, strawberries, mango, or perhaps banana flavour? And her body... how he would've enjoyed taking away her precious innocence – to witness her and him, their bodies conjoined as she chants his name like a spell as he pleasures her to no bounds.

She was his – no one else's! He knew her since they were but mere children; only a fool would shed tears and give up so easily at a chance to be with an angel such as herself. He was different from the rest; he will win her heart in the end. Those bastards don't deserve to be looked at by her – they don't even deserve to be in her presence! He will make sure of that, oh how he will – heaven or hell.

-5:00 a.m.

His bedside clock glowed faintly as he gazed at it with fierce concentration. He was annoyed at the fact his body didn't fully receive the nutrients of sleep it badly needed, before an hour left before its due to prepare for school – he noted it was mainly because of the disturbances that had occurred during the night prior. The first instance, he had awoken to the sounds of what seems to have been sirens of police vehicles passing by their immediate residence – the long-wailing scream it had produced pounded the inside of his ears as he jolted right out of his bed to inspect the situation outside from the safety and comforts of his bedroom window, and sure enough as he peeked through the small four by four glass sheet a police car had momentarily caught his vision before it had swerved a corner into the general direction of the city. He sighed, he took note it was only past midnight as he gazed at the nearby clock atop his dresser. Why the authorities would even venture to the city was beyond him and at a time like this? He knew that this city was at a safe and secure enough location to not have attracted illegal activity – this, based on personal experience as he had lived here his entire existence, Tomoeda – the name of his beloved birth place, was even featured on a prestigious news channel as the most peaceful country in the entirety of Japan with crime rates dropping as low as five to two percentage per year. Not a surprising statistic really, he knew this city was located at the centre of a tight security agency which conducts a twenty four hour surveillance sweep as well as thorough daily patrols throughout the city streets. But of course, it may have been one of those rare occasions where an actual killing did take place in some isolated area within the night where a poor anonymous had their throat severely slit by a sharpened knife or had their eyes brutally gauged out from the sockets with an unidentifiable weapon under the gleaming moonlight or... He shivered as a cool breeze brushed past the tips of his shoulders, abruptly making the hairs on the back of his head stand on end – he should really refrain from watching anymore shows with the horror and suspense genres before going to bed.

In any case, he was dead tired. Anymore of this in depth mental analysis he was conducting and he was sure to be up till dusk – now that he thought about it, after going through to the time once again with a quick shift of vision towards the left corner of his room – to his worn out clock, he realized that he had only slept for an hour or so – five more hours before he prepares for school. He cursed as he laid under the comforts of his quality bed, he counted sheep's as his tired body sank into the softness of the silk material – he hoped that in by doing so, he would be able to doze off much quicker. Minutes passed, as he was slowly on the verge of a temporary hibernation, he heard it – it was a light tap; it reminded him of the sound produced if someone used a lone fingertip to gently flick on a hard surface – specifically, glass.

Could it have been?

'Tap', 'Tap', 'Tap' slowly, it echoed.

Each instance it transpired the soft clatter grew in pitch and speed that it terrified him. Opening his eyes he was greeted with an almost plain darkness – the only light source being the dim lighting produced by his bedside clock – it was a kind of darkness that was unfamiliar even to him. Was it this dark when he got out of bed moments ago? He hadn't a clue. By this time, the sound emanating from across the room had gradually intensified; he could see shadows swirling about in every direction, from the oak panelled door to his personal computer – it didn't seem to stop. Finally mustering up courage and bravery; he sauntered over to the window where the tapping – now knocking sound was coming from. As he drew nearer, he could make out a faint silhouette from the other side of the glass pane. It was an impossibility that was for sure; as this house was built two stories high above the ground no one can possibly glide over air. So what was this he was witnessing? From the inside of his room it looked as though a person was standing just outside of his window – he made out the features, whoever this person was he was about five foot five, short hair, and he or she was seem to be wearing from what he could make out a long sleeved robe(?) His train of thought was interrupted by a sudden loud knock from the outside of the glass that resonated throughout the confines of his room, startling him. His hands trembled in a shaking rhythm as the colour drained from his face, the person – no the 'thing' outside seemed to have shifted positions and as of now was looking straight at him from outside the glass. The wind picked up as his heart beat fastened, a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead before it plunged down the carpeted flooring, he was glued – frozen in place. A sense of impending doom had washed over his very being before he saw three bony fingers reach forth the glass sill...

'Tick-Tock', 'Tick-Tock', he heard the mechanism of the clock chime from the inside of his head.

'Make it stop!' – He was breathing heavily as he stood spectating clawed hands prying his window open. He gave out a silent scream as the lock disengaged from its hinges, the cool air from the outside seeped through the small opening, making him shiver. He panicked as rotting lacerated hands clamped around the window frame in a vice like grip. It was dripping – the hand, oozing out was a liquid that smelt of death and decay, it leaked down the flooring and dispersed as if it were alive, he watched and watched as if he were in a trance, as the hand was about to pry open the window frame. The things claw was visible now, sharp and precise is what he described it, the window creaked as it was slowly being lifted o–

''Leave me the hell alone!'' he roared as he opened the window completely.

Before him stood a tree branch, it twisted and distorted from the wind's breeze that it had created the illusion of jotting limbs, the dark velvety leaves brushed his nose as it swayed under the mercy of the wind. The tree looked as if it were alive, hollow eyes and a twisted grin made up its features as he directed his gaze at the monstrous mass, the bark had rotted off in small patches as liquid substance trinkled down it's rough surface.

At seeing this, he inspected the earlier liquid that had dripped down the floor from under him; he could roughly see a darkish stain lingering at the surface of his decade old carpeting – as he had guessed, what fell down was merely the trees sap. He theorised that the tree had been consumed by some animal and had left after it finished feasting or it was simply due to old age(?), whichever was viable.

Tonight was certainly a chilly one he mused as he looked up toward the sky at the gleaming moon – it was full. Closing the windows, he walked to his bed and lay under the covers before he felt his consciousness ebbing away as all thought processes had seized.

-5:30 a.m. the clock lit.

It was pointless to remember such trivial matters, he silently debated; right now, all he needs to think about is his preparation for the upcoming school day. The sunlight bathed his skin in a golden hue as he stood up from his comfortable bed; casting aside the bed sheets that entangled him. He nimbly bounded to the direction of the door; legs moving rhythmically in unison, he was mere centimetres away from grasping the door's brass implanted knob when a knock on the pesky contraption had stopped him from his track. What–

''Syaoran, honey. I finished preparing breakfast, would you kindly come down and eat before you're late for school?'' a sweet feminine voice stated from the other side.

The boy – Syaoran, answered with a soft 'ok' before opening the door and proceeding to go down the steps into the kitchen. His mother – Yelan he called her, was awaiting his arrival; a gentle smile graced her lips before she greeted him a good morning.

''So, how was your night?'' his mother asked as he sat down on one of the nearby chairs; his bottom gracing the soft velvety cushion.

''Was alright'' he lied as he commenced to eat the plate of food that lay before him. The plate was mainly composed of three pancakes, a side dish of eggs and two loafs of toasted bread and a glass of orange juice which made him salivate and his stomach to growl in starvation.

''The police came last night–'', he looked at his mother with such speeds that he thought his head was about to implode, ''What about?'' he interjected her in mid-sentence.

The expression on her delicate face had changed, before it was of gentle caring now as he looked at her it shifted into a crossover between authoritative and protective parenting, ''About some killing. They informed me last night that the body of a teenage boy was found floating ashore near the city rivers. It was brutally mangled and beaten that it was near unidentifiable,'' his lips parted slightly as she continued, ''I expect you to be mature about this situation, and come home straight on time at the ends of your final period. God knows, he's still at large.''

''I understand.'' He stated before gulping a glass of icy-cold orange juice; he savoured and relished the unique citrusy flavour before discarding the contents in his hand: a plate, an ordinary stainless steel fork, and a drinking glass onto the smoothness of the kitchen's sink.

''Thank you for the meal, mother.'' He politely bows to his mother to which she nodded in response. He sets foot to fetch the articles of clothing he needed to start off this day, ''Good luck at school.'', he heard the gentle voice of his mother say from the other room – the kitchen, as he proceeded to venture up the steps towards his room.

-6:10 a.m.

He read as he closed the oaked door shut behind him – the lockset made contact with the strike plate as it gave a soft click, securely shutting the room, with him inside.

Finally arriving to his aforementioned lair, he wasted no time to sort out the articles of clothing that hung inside the confines of his age old wardrobe. Dissecting the garments inside, he had selected the needed items for today's activities: a crisp white long sleeved button down collar, black coloured trousers, and a Gakuran jacket to which he proceeded to dress accordingly.

-6:33 a.m.

Yelan Lee had been feeling nauseous as of late, since the night's conversation with police authorities she had been fearing the worst for her boy and his safety. ''A body of a teenage boy was found near the shores of Tama River yesterday evening'', Yelan tuned in as a middle aged man reported the crime inside the twelve inch LED television screen of her living room, ''after a passer-by had seemingly reported of an unidentified 'object' floating ashore the shallow waters into the moist powdery sands under the Maruko Bridge. According to forensics report, as they approached the bag that was partially submerged on salty water, it was near evident that whatever was inside had long since died.'' She watched, eyes never leaving the backlit screen – never blinking; eyes of curiosity and concentration, ''As they near the material, rancid odour had instantaneously bombarded their senses of smell. With us this very day is none other than Detective Sakaguchi Amano, the head investigator of this unfortunate disaster'' the reported said, as he shook hands with the person standing beside him – a man, roughly in his mid-30's stood before the camera lens; he wore a well fitted, well cut navy blue suit over an expensive dress shirt. His eyes – sharp and cold pierced through the television screen as he was acknowledged by the reporter, ''Detective–'' the reported beckoned; his stubbly finger tips slightly brushing over his smooth tan skin, ''–Everyone,'' Amano – the detective, paused, ''as you are watching this, I would like to simply state that the killer is still in fact at large. Rest assured that we of the TPD will not rest until whoever is at fault is rotting in a cubicle cell. '' ''Now Detective–'' the middle aged reporter interjected, his sagged cheeks partly rising as he offered a smiled, ''What can you tell us abo–''

''Mother–'' a cold raspy voice had sliced through Yelan's thought processes; from behind, she looked, only to discover Syaoran standing near the adjourned door frame, a rectangular leather bag gripped in his right hand; preparing to depart she had guessed.

Tiny beads of sweat seeped out her pores as she fidgeted under Syaoran's intense gaze, ''Going to school?'' she responded, voice nearly shaking with sudden nervousness; his response was but a soft nod before he stepped outside leading to the front gates, closing the door gently as he passed through the opening; it clattered ever so softly before shutting itself tightly in place.

**I wasn't able to sleep last night so I wrote this. Apologies for the grammatical errors, punctuations and words that simply do not make any sense. LOL. **


End file.
